Macabre Meetings
by nomdeplum9
Summary: How Gomez and Morticia met, one faithful night, and the Addams clan was changed forever. Contains elements of the tv series, movie, and musical.


**AN - **_This contains elements of the original television series, the 1991 movie, and an excerpt cut from the Broadway musical. None of which, I own. I hope you enjoy it, and as always, please review._

* * *

Mr. and Mrs. Frump and Mr. and Mrs. Addams had decided that a union between their two families, in the form of a marriage between their children, would be best for everyone. The Frumps had two daughters, nineteen-year-old Ophelia, the intended bride, and seventeen-year-old Morticia, a quiet, seemingly fragile girl that could learn from this experience. The Addamses had two sons, Fester, age twenty-seven, and Gomez, twenty-three. The Addamses didn't care which son got married, but had heard from friends and acquaintances that Ophelia would make a lovely wife and member of the Addams clan. It was for this reason, coupled with Ophelia's status as elder daughter, which had made her the intended target for any Addams affections.

For Morticia Frump, who had only been informed that her sister would hopefully find a suitor tonight, the evening could not be more splendidly miserable. Ophelia had been wandering around the house all day, torn between anger and happiness at having a match arranged for her. Morticia enjoyed the contrast in emotions and the tension it caused. She was, after all, only seventeen, her parents would insist on marrying Ophelia off first. She would be allowed to remain at home for a little while longer, study under her tutors, grow her plants, play with her foils, and not have to worry about horribly happy events like marriages and falling in love. She could keep her hair in her childish braids and get messy and spend time by herself without causing a scandal among potential suitors. Ophelia could do none of these things. She was crippled by restrictive, adult dresses, and family obligations.

All Morticia had to do was attend the funeral tonight and act like a dutiful younger sister. Their attendance at the funeral was for the sole purpose of getting rid of Ophelia. She was terribly excited. It was her first funeral and Mother had bequeathed her ruby choker necklace for the occasion. It would look stunning against the pale column of her throat. She let a colorless hand rest against her pulse point there as she reclined in her seat.

As a whole, Morticia was pale; her skin seemed to glow in her favorite lighting – the moon. She was already thin, but at her own insistence had been using corsets since she was fifteen. Her hair was long, thick, and shiny black. Her mother's rules dictated that her hair be kept in braids in public for the entirety of her childhood, and Morticia liked the tight twists she kept her hair in. Her nails and lips were stained a deep, blood red and her eyes were dark as pitch, lined with black makeup as well. Her daily uniform was a form-fitting dress that fell just above the knee – black brocade with wide, white collars around the wrists and neck and stockings covering her legs. All in all, she was on the cusp of being a woman but was still holding tightly to being a girl. For her, this night would be no different.

All of a sudden, a knock sounded at the door to Morticia's chambers. She rose from the chaise longue she had been musing on and received her intruder.

"I'm here to help you dress, and go over what is expected of you tonight," Mother said, gesturing for her to move behind the black divider and change. She handed Morticia a black box, one of three she had carried in. "For tonight. I'll help you put it on."

Morticia moved to the divider and opened the box. She lifted out a black corset, lace paneling on the front, with ribbons going up the back, practically begging to be tied around her frame. It had very little give - either iron or whalebone would be binding her waist tonight. She was in love with the piece and was touched that her mother had thought to indulge her peculiarities on a night as important as this. She pressed it to her chest and stepped out from the divider, sitting at her vanity once more. Her mother pressed her body forward and Morticia immediately straightened her back and held her breath as her mother pulled the laces harshly, very harshly for someone who didn't wear one regularly. As she pulled, she talked.

"Tonight is for Ophelia. You will be respectful to every Addams we meet and you will do your very best to allow Ophelia to shine. Once she is married we can begin making a match for you. Until such a happy time happens you will act in accordance with how you have been raised and be an asset to both your sister and the entirety of this family. Do you understand?" her mother asked, punctuating her question with a final severe tug of the laces. Morticia placed a slightly wavering hand against her stomach, relishing in the constricting feel, and nodded.

"Yes, Mother," she replied. "Thank you for the gift, it's lovely." Her mother nodded and avoided meeting her daughter's gaze in the mirror. Instead, she picked up a brush and ran it through Morticia's hair a few times before beginning the tight braid that Morticia had become accustomed to.

"The other two boxes contain gifts that your father and I expect you to use tonight. You are required to stay with us until Ophelia is introduced to the Addams men, then you are allowed to wander. I know your curiosity will undoubtedly win out. Just do not stray far, if Ophelia or I need you, you must be nearby." Mother tied off the braid with a black ribbon before draping it over Morticia's shoulder and arranging it there neatly.

"Yes, Mother." With that, her mother turned on her heel and left the room, probably to tend to Ophelia and prepare her for the night ahead. Morticia could barely let the door close before rushing over to the chaise longue, where the other two boxes rested. She took the lid off the first one to reveal black satin covered by spiderweb-thin lace. She practically groaned in happiness, tugging the dress out of the box and pressing it up against her. Giving a quick twirl in the mirror, Morticia slipped an almost feral grin onto her face.

She would have been content with the dress, but she could not allow the mystique of the third box to torture her any longer. She pulled up thick black wool. It did not have any discernable shape, which puzzled her until she was able to hold the whole thing in front of her.

A cloak. Her parents had gotten her a marvelous, black wool cloak with black/blue satin lining. She draped it onto her bed, thumbing the silver clasp at the nape lovingly. She would look simply stunning tonight; in no small part thanks to the gifts her parents had given her. Sure, they were bribes meant to keep her grateful and on her best behavior, but she was going to be able to use them to her fullest advantage. As she changed into the dress and pulled the cloak on over it, she heard a thunderclap echoing in the distance. She peered out her window and saw the fog rolling in.

Morticia smiled. It would, indeed, be a perfect night.

**xxxxx**

Mrs. Addams, Fester, and Gomez had already been seated when the Frump family arrived at the funeral service at the Addams estate. As such, they could not properly introduce the young Addams men to an appropriately nervous Ophelia. The Frumps took their seats across the aisle of the makeshift graveyard-side funeral service for Balthazar Addams.

Morticia had dutifully trailed behind her parents and Ophelia and had been the last to take her seat in the row. She had just taken down the hood of her cloak and pulled her braid to rest over her shoulder when she happened to glance at the other mourners.

It was at that moment that Morticia saw him, a Lothario-Casanova type in a striped suit, his smile gently moving the mustache that rested atop his upper lip. His hair was slicked back and he talked animatedly with the elderly woman next to him. He hadn't noticed her staring yet and she was caught between the desire to keep ogling him and the need to save face and turn away. She was spared the decision, however, when his conversation ended and the unknown man's eyes found hers. All at once, her heart stopped for a long moment before wildly beating again.

**xxxxx**

Great-Aunt Fermentia was updating Gomez of the status of her rusted knights' armor (it didn't creak like it used to, poor dear), when he saw her. She was seated alongside several people he did not know, obviously not Addamses. She was breathtaking. His heart stopped for a brief pause in time before it picked up at an erratic tango's pace, wild and unpredictable. The eulogy had begun and he knew he should have turned and paid his respects, but he found himself having trouble tearing his eyes away. Finally he gave up and stared openly, growing immensely pleased that the dark beauty stared back. At the funeral's conclusion, the Addams clan followed the casket to Balthazar's grave and he lost her, kept close to his family by his mother's vicelike grip.

"At the party you will be introduced to the Frumps. Their daughter, Ophelia, is nineteen and would be an excellent match for either one of you. You will meet her, get to know her, and hopefully one of you will find her to your liking. It's high time at least one of you began to carry on the Addams name. Do you understand?" his mother asked, glaring at her two sons. They both nodded. Gomez felt a crushing weight in his chest as he searched fruitlessly for the beautiful woman he had seen before. He found nothing, and felt only the growing ache in his heart.

The funeral procession lasted until the moon had reached its peak in the sky. It illuminated the slightly foggy recesses of the cemetery, including where poor Balthazar would be laid to rest. The moon also had the unique chance to see the first introduction of the Frump and Addams families.

"Mrs. Frump!" Mrs. Addams!" the two old women cried. Morticia rolled her eyes and clutched the cloak closer to her body against the cold night air. She listened and hung back behind her parents and sister.

"This is my daughter, Ophelia," Gomez's mother's friend said, pushing forward a blonde clutching a pitiful bunch of daisies in her hands. The girl smiled, a bit too much in his opinion, before a solemn look crossed her face.

"Oh, isn't it simply terrible? A death in the family, how devastating. I'm so sorry for your loss," she whimpered, and Gomez could have sworn he saw tears in her eyes. It was all he could do not to retch in front of her. Evidently somebody else shared the same opinion because he heard a soft tut of disapproval from behind the blonde and her parents. He wasn't the only one to have heard it – both the girl and her mother turned and shook their heads before parting to allow a fourth person into their ranks.

"This is my youngest child, Morticia," Mrs. Frump said, and Morticia felt a pleasant wave of despair at her childish status. She did what she was obligated to do – stepped forward, raised her eyes and lowered her hood to greet the Addamses. What she saw forever changed her life.

Mrs. Frump's introduction made Gomez think that the awkward blonde's sister was a child, someone who had been dragged along as an afterthought. This last impression was probably true in theory, but after he saw her that idea was the last thing on his mind.

A cloaked figure stepped forward, revealing heeled feet with each step. He was frozen, helpless to do anything but watch as a pale hand, red nails glittering, rose to undo the clasp and pull down the cape from slender shoulders. He saw a pale throat, shiny round eyes, and pursed red lips reveal themselves to him. She extended a hand to him in greeting and he gave a low, deep bow and pressed a kiss to it's back. He heart a soft mewl of approval and looked up to meet her gaze.

"Enchantée," she murmured and his heart began to pound furiously.

"You speak French?" he choked out. She gave a soft smile and batted her eyes.

"Oui." He could barely keep himself from groaning. Forget the blonde, this one was perfect, an enchanting creature, and, from what he could tell, an excellent addition to the Addams clan. He had just made this decision when the band began playing a new song.

"Do you dance?" he asked, pleased when she nodded. Without a glance back at either family he wrapped an arm around her impossibly thin waist and led her to the dance floor. He bowed, she curtsied, and they began.

She absolutely adored the tango. Gomez was an excellent partner, too, very agile. Morticia thought, with a quiet sigh, that she would be sad if he chose her sister. She thought she could easily learn to enjoy being in his arms, allowing him to exert a small degree over the way her body twisted and turned in time with the music. His handsome mustache had quivered slightly at her French. For some reason, that made her feel incredibly happy. It seemed like control could be won and lost with ease between them.

After their tango, Morticia and Gomez moved out to the cemetery to slow dance in the moonlight. Gomez kept a hand pressed to her back and played gently with the braid that swung with their movements. They talked quietly amongst the graves of fallen Addamses, especially poor Balthazar, who had yet to be interred.

"You are incredibly mature for seventeen," he noted. The barest hint of a blush crept onto her cheeks.

"I will be eighteen next month. I'm hardly the child my mother makes me out to be," she sniffed and he nodded his agreement.

"So how do you spend your days? We've never met, I'm guessing you are not allowed out much," Gomez said.

"I study, mostly French, literature, music, fencing…"

"You fence?" he interrupted, an incredulous look crossing his face.

"Un peu," she said, smiling softly as she tested him. This time, alone in the cemetery, he could not control himself. He placed a kiss in her hand, her pulse point in her wrist and the crook of her elbow, her shoulder, the nape of her neck, her throat, her cheek, and finally a chaste kiss on her lips.

"Mon cher," she whispered, raising a hand to cup his face.

"You've bewitched me. I feel as though I'd die without you. Be mine," he urged.

"But…Ophelia?" Morticia replied, a worried look falling across her face.

"An Addams intends to take a Frump as a wife. That is all our parents ever really cared about, the specifics aren't important. It is you I want, just you. Please, say yes!"

"Mon cher…"

"Cara mia?" His eyes sought out hers pleadingly, she lowered her gaze to think for a moment. This man, she pondered, was everything her young life had taught her to want. Her mother would be displeased at first, to be sure, but eventually she and everyone else would accept them. Brave suddenly in her decision, she looked up at him and nodded slowly.

"Yes, yes, ye-" he cut her off, kissing her passionately as he dipped her so that her long braid brushed the ground with ease.

**xxxxx**

Just as Morticia had suspected, Mother was less then enthused that she had stolen Ophelia's moment and suitor. But Gomez had been right, too. Any anger their parents felt diminished in the wake of the news that Gomez had decided to marry Morticia and she had agreed to become an Addams. Her parents had immediately begun negotiating plans for the wedding, but the Addamses required a special ceremony first.

In preparation for her Clandango, Morticia had taken up residence in the Addams home, the place where she would spend an eternity with Gomez. Each morning, she met with her tutors and continued her studies. After lunch, she fenced with Gomez and took a few stolen moments with him in the garden. Then it was lessons with Mama, as Mrs. Addams insisted on being called, for her impending Clandango and wedding.

The Clandango, Gomez had informed her, was one of the most important traditions in the Addams family. It was the right of passage for any Addams as they transitioned into adulthood on the last day of autumn after their eighteenth birthday. It was the day that the Addams clan would officially recognize Morticia as both a woman and an Addams. Both were necessary for the midnight wedding that would follow the ceremony.

The days passed quickly. Gomez took Morticia out on dates, like seeing the comedy "Death of a Salesman." On the grand occasion of her eighteenth birthday, he bought her a vial of anthrax for her collection of apothecary goods. She had been absolutely delighted. Finally, the night of her Clandango and wedding arrived. Mother and Mama were fluttering around her guest chamber, pulling out shoes, jewels, dresses, everything she would need for the two ceremonies.

Like a flashback to a dimmer time, a knock sounded on her door as she readied herself for the night ahead.

"May I see my sweet Querida?" Gomez asked, poking his head into the doorway. Mama and Mother made quick excuses and disappeared into another room to give the two a moment.

"Are you excited for tonight, Cara Mia?" he asked, studying her reflection as he stood behind her vanity. The gaze of her reflection met his as she brushed through her hair and began pulling it back into her familiar braid.

"A little nervous, but yes, excited too. Go through the ceremony for me again, Gomez," she requested. He watched her fingers move in and out of her dark hair for a moment before answering.

"The Clandango's aim is to bury the child and raise the woman as a member of the Addams Clan. You answer three questions that are posed to every adult member, dance the Clandango, cut your braids, and then it is off to the wedding. You know the dance, yes?" he asked, and at her nod he continued, "then you have nothing to worry about." He gently pulled her braid aside and placed a kiss at the nape of her neck. Almost of it's own accord, her hand flew up to caress his face.

"Do we have to cut my hair?" she asked despondently. "Don't you like it long?"

"It's part of the tradition, Cara Mia. But I have asked that Mother leave it at least to your shoulder blades. It's the most we can do. It will grow back, Querida, and you are always beautiful." She smiled at him.

"How will I know the answers to the questions?" she asked.

"You are meant to be an Addams. You will know."

**xxxxx**

As the current living patriach of the Addams family, Grandfather Addams, an elderly, crippled old man, led Morticia's Clandango. She had been brought out of the coffin by his wrinkled hand and danced everything according to tradition. Now she stood on her coffin, ready to answer the questions about to be posed to her.

"Morticia Addams," his reedy voice rang out, her heart nearly stopped at the sound of her new name, "Now that you've reached the age of consent, what dost thou promise?" By it's own volition, her mouth opened and the words flew out.

"To honor the family, it's beliefs and rituals, without question or doubt." As soon as the words were spoken she knew them to be true. Mama spoke up next.

"Tell me, child, when it's time to choose a mate, what qualities do we value above all others?"

"That they be passionate and true, even unto death." Her heart pounded as she thought of Gomez, her dear heart, and her raison d'être from this moment forward. There would be no going back. The finality made her unbelievably happy.

"Third and final question – when your elders start to age, will you banish them away from the family home, like garbage?" Grandfather spoke again.

"I shall not. They will receive a room in the attic and kitchen privileges." This seemed to be a satisfactory answer. They started to dance again as the rest of the family started to sing and chant.

"This is yours to assume, this is yours to inherit…"

**xxxxx**

In fulfillment of all rituals and traditions, Morticia was now a member of the Addams family. She kept threading her fingers through her newly cut hair. It brushed against the middle of her back – it unnerved her, being out of its usual braid. She had changed from her childhood uniform, one of the requirements for the Clandango, into her wedding gown. It was white, but bore the unmistakable Addams touch. Black lace covered it, giving it an unearthly feel. Her veil was black, too, and she had chosen her ruby choker as her only adornment. Now Mother was guiding her to the altar, where Gomez and Cousin Itt were waiting for her to truly begin the next phase of her life. Her corset made the hitch in her breathing even more pronounced and her mother just patted her arm comfortingly before they rounded the corner. There stood Gomez, and Morticia's entire world faded to him, just him.

It seemed like she blinked and Gomez was dipping her precariously low as Cousin Itt declared them husband and wife. He kissed her deeply and they turned to face the macabre crowd that had watched them take this step. That crowd, Morticia realized with a burst of happiness, was now her family. She was an Addams, Morticia Addams, forevermore.


End file.
